He Fell Behind
by 0oxymoronic0
Summary: The cretin's eyes laughed at him as he realised as he had a million times before, whether it was with cannon, pistol or sword, he was long past the point of being able to kill Captain Jack Sparrow. [Sparrington][oneshot]


**A/N**

**Yay! Sparrington! Aww, how I love them both to bits… I'm still heartbroken over… over… JAMES! –breaks down into hysterical sobs-**

**This is a bit of an amalgam of Sparrington ideas that I had, so bear with me.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the second film, just the first. I only saw the third once… and the first I didn't even see in the cinema. Yet Johnny is still mine. (Muahaha. I own his soul.)**

**Umm… ignore that. It's not mine, I swear…**

**He Fell Behind**

"Now excuse me while I kill the man who ruined my life."

James Norrington once again found himself looking down a sword at Jack Sparrow. (_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, reminded the tiny little part of his brain he had long decided to ignore. It was that little part of his mind which had got him into this mess in the first place.) Those brown eyes were focused on him in their glittering manner which reminded him of the million different times he'd seen them shine, and everything he'd lost just to keep staring into that sparkle.

"Let us examine that claim for a moment," stated the man in front of him, and he felt himself wobble a bit at the words. Was… was he… he wasn't, was he? Dear God, listen to himself. He wasn't making sense inside his _own _brain, never mind in speech to others. Too much time spent around bloody pirates. His mind – fragmented as it was by that cretin who was grinning at him insanely – forced itself back to what he had just said. He could feel Turner's breath rasping across his neck; was he about to reveal… _them_… to an audience? The aforementioned reckless part of his mind urged the pirate to, but he was helpless, standing and waiting for judgement. "… and stole your beloved all to hisself, eh?"

James' eyes widened slightly – that stupid Turner brat hadn't… hadn't _touched _Jack, had he? He'd kill him if he had! – before realising that Sparrow was referring to his and Will's supposed beloved, Miss Swan. The cretin's eyes laughed at him as he recovered from his bout of worrying, and as he stared him down he realised – like he had the million other times before, whether it was with cannon, pistol or sword – he was long past the point of being able to kill Captain Jack Sparrow. "Unfortunately," he murmured, "Mr Turner, he's right!" he yelled, and took his terrible anger out on the whelp in front of him, leaving the stupid, evil _pirate _to run off with the prize yet again.

Who says James was _really _fighting for the key?

* * *

There had been a moment, long ago, when James Norrington had first held that compass and its evil little red arrow had flickered straight to the pirate grinning in front of him. Of course, with no knowledge of what the compass _really _did he only thought it was a bit odd that such an acclaimed pirate had a compass that didn't work. Then again, this was Jack Sparrow, enemy of the Tortuga wench and honest pirate alike. There wasn't much left for him to be surprised by.

But even now, all those years later, he found himself _under the command _of said pirate. It had been bad enough that the stupid bastard had managed to secure all his _emotions _for goodness-knows-how-long, but now he _owned_ him too. And the proximity of that damn compass was more than he could take, knowing that he utterly, completely, just for once wanted to _know what he wanted_. And the damn thing was driving him insane, with the stupid girl with her stupid hands waving it around in that stupid pirate's face –

He shook his head. Elizabeth was asleep, along with Gibbs, Marty, Cotton and the rest of the crew. Even the other two thieving pirates had vanished into the holds to find some of the swag they figured even the loopy Captain hadn't forgotten to pilfer. Dryly, he wished them luck. With another swig of rum – the last, unfortunately (with Captain Jack around the rum was always gone), but he grasped hold of the bottle like a child's teddy – he staggered off in the general direction of the Captain's quarters.

It took him three tries to open the door, giving the owner of the room more than enough time to a) hide, b) hide the rum or c)… c)… there probably was a c), but James' foggy mind couldn't think of it. With an audible and a far from gentlemanly snort he whirled open the door and stared around blearily. The captain was perched next to a map, fiddling with a pair of compasses while fidgeting with a strap on his waist. James frowned, wondered why he was ignoring him and staggered forwards, leaning over the table to snatch the compass.

A sword blade whacked him gently on the hand, and he glared at it balefully. "What do you want with that?" its owner murmured, and he continued his baleful gaze up to his face.

Damn, he'd forgotten Jack's puppy look. He hadn't quite managed to get his eyes away in time.

"Just wanted to use it," he muttered, wishing he sounded three times older than what he really sounded like.

"So the Commodore does not know what he wants?" the pirate asked, too much gleefulness in the question for James' liking.

"That makes two of us," he snapped, and Jack actually recoiled in shock. James immediately got the distinct impression of kicking a puppy, and cursed such a damn pirate for being so adorably cute. He reached for it again, but this time there was no cold steel stopping him, and with some relief he stared at the black box, and contemplated whether he should really open it.

Would he like what he saw?

He gave it a trusty shake, counted to three, trebled it for extra good luck and flipped open the lid. It whirled, spun, seemed to think about it for a minute, before resting on the place he always knew it would. He followed it to come face-to-face with a gleeful smirk and glittering eyes. He quickly snapped the lid shut, while knowing that it was too late and the damn pirate had very well seen where it was pointing.

"Well, well," the other muttered, sauntering across the table. As the compass had fallen down, the lid had sprung open, and James was horrified to notice that the red arrow followed its owner all the way around, until he was unbearably close. "It appears that you really are loath to claim it as your own, hmm?"

"It's not mine to claim," he snapped back, and moved towards the exit.

A hand gripped his upper arm hard. "James," he murmured warningly, and despite everything he found an eerie thrill to have it spoken by _him_. His eyes fell on the compass momentarily, now within Sparrow's crazy residence, and he was utterly shocked to see that the red arrow paused on him for _five whole seconds _before spinning off randomly again. _Five seconds_… that was the longest he'd ever seen it pause… Before he could get his hopes up he moved towards the door again, shrugging off the ringed hand that clutched at him a tad desperately. "James," the voice repeated, and suddenly a pair of hands was gripping his hips tight, and a body was pressed into him from behind.

"Get off me," he snarled, but the other ignored him, tracing his fingers teasingly up the muddy royal-blue shirt.

"Why did you _really _come back, James?" he murmured in his ear, a tad too sultry for him to be entirely comfortable with. "Why did you _really _sign up?" He blushed furiously and looked aside as the real reason rose straight to the top of his mind. "Did you _miss _me?" He winced. That was_entirely _too close to the mark for his liking _at all_.

"Let me go," he snapped, but it was considerably less authoritative than before.

"But James…" the voice whined again. "You're so much fun to play with!"

He shot an evil look over his shoulder. "Damn you, Sparrow," he snarled, writhing out of his grip and clutching the door handle tight, before his back arched up and he yelped as the pirate's nails were firmly planted in his spine, dragging down to the small of his back.

"_I_ missed _you_," someone murmured in his ear, and it took a whole five seconds before he realised that Sparrow really was the only other person in the room and he turned to stare at him. "How couldn't I miss such a delectable arse?" he said with a grin, running his nails further down across said extrusion, and this time James really did pull away.

"I'd forgotten how vulgar you are," he snapped, turning to unleash his full I'm-a-Commodore (Well A Former One At Least)-get-your-hands-off-me-you-pirate look, and somehow feeling it melt literally in front of his eyes as the pirate's glittering brown ones got really too close for comfort.

And as he relaxed into the Captain's arms, he realised that he didn't mind claiming it too much, really.

* * *

"Elizabeth!" the voice called over from the other side of the boat, and she found herself faced with a lurching pirate. "You never did tell me what happened to whassisface, you know, Commodore thingamabob." Jack grinned, showing off his full complement of gold teeth that glittered dangerously in the half-light.

She flinched – a sign he fortuitously took to be bad. He was right. "He fell behind," she murmured, and with a hurt look she flounced off.

"Oh," he said quietly to himself, trying to understand the concept. "Oh," he repeated. "Oh." He staggered off towards his cabins, fishing for the compass around his belt, closing his eyes and praying before flipping it open again.

The compass spun wildly out of control, round and round until he found himself dizzy from watching it and _hoping _it would stop. "Oh."

The compass which showed him everything couldn't bring back the dead. His lover was long gone.

He strode out onto the deck and peered into a pink horizon. _James' favourite_, he found himself idly thinking, before shaking his head and sighing, turning back below deck.

* * *

One every a hundred years, Calypso had given him. One to save, of his choosing, every a hundred years, and before him he frowned at the ghost-figure of James Norrington, wondering why on earth he was on the ship.

The former Commodore appeared to be just as confused at his current position. "Aren't I dead?" he asked, bewildered, and Will shrugged.

"Err… sort of," he said. "In a manner of speaking."

"I got stabbed, you know," he said, grinning slightly.

Will cleared his throat. "Yes, I know."

He frowned again, looking around. "This ship seems familiar, have I attacked it before?" Will frowned for a moment. He could have sworn he knew that line from somewhere.

"Er, no, you haven't, at least, I don't think so. Not in my time in any rate." His father rolled his eyes beside him, and impatiently twiddled with the wheel. "Er. Right. Yes. Um. You can go back, if you want."

James looked at him. "Really? That's nice of you."

Will blinked. "Er, I suppose it is. It's no trouble."

Bill Turner rolled his eyes again. "Are you sure you want to waste it on this imbecile?" he muttered.

Will scowled at him. "Yes, James is a good man."

"What?"

They ignored him, staring at each other for a moment, before the elder sighed. "It's your choice," he muttered, and drew a doorway in the air.

"Um. Right. Sorry, I'm rather new. If you would care to step through here?" James gave him another cheery smile that was quite unlike him and sauntered through the glowing black. Will braced himself for an infestation of tentacles, but his stubble stayed true. Calypso kept her promise.

* * *

James blinked as he found himself on board the Pearl again. Well, that was a tad unexpected. A glowing light gave him the opportunity to investigate, and investigate he did, wandering over towards it in a strangely nonchalant manner. He knocked and pushed open the door in the same movement, nearly falling through and stared around. The Captain was peering at his compass as if he didn't believe his eyes, and then followed the needle up to the bewildered former Commodore dominating his doorway.

"Bloody hell," he murmured, before his fingers twitched and he flashed a quick smile. "Welcome back," he muttered, blushing slightly.

James smiled softly back. "Believe me when I say I never left."

**A/N**

… **review? Pleeease?**


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